Guilt-Free Break

With the holidays upon us, and the skiing epic, I’ve set aside most of my writing. And my reading.

And you know, I don’t feel guilty about it. I did the same thing accidentally back in the summer and felt a little angsty the whole time. This time, I’ve given myself permission to embrace non-writing endeavors and enjoy the season.

I’ll be back in the new year, refreshed and full of stories. Or gripes, because, well, that’s the way I roll in the Shire.

A New Critique Group

There’s a new critique group in town and it doesn’t involve me driving over the river and through the woods to get to it. It’s just a short hop to a local coffee shop and let me tell you, these are my people. Affiliated with the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, they’re writing the same sort of stuff that I am – chapter books/middle grade/YA. They’re readers, they’re writers, they’re creative.

Sadly, they find the same things wrong with my story that the Lone Mountain Writers do. <sigh>

Just goes to show that children’s writing is no different than writing for adults – character is everything and a story is a story is a story.

Where I like to Write

The beauty of writing is that if you have paper and pencil, you can pretty much do it anywhere. And I have. I’ve written on buses, on airplane drink trays, in a tent, and under a tree with my notepad balanced on my knee. I have schlepped a laptop to coffee shops, libraries, and travel trailers. And around my home, I’ve written in just about any place you can imagine – on the couch in front of the fire, the futon in my office, dining room table, my bed, and, of course, my desk. I’ve created a standing desk and I’ve scribbled while pedaling my stationary bike. I’ve even sat outside in the shade of the waving trumpet vine and tapped away.

And you know what? They’re all good. None are better than others. They’re all just diving platforms from which my creative self leaps into the highways and byways of my imagination. Very often, it’s not even the location that will stir the juices – a pad of paper and a pen will do it.

Some places, of course, are more conducive to certain kinds of writing. I spent hours in my bed last weekend with a lap desk and my current work in progress, wrestling with plot issues and planning my novel in more detail. A few hours in a protective cocoon and I can get an amazing amount accomplished, while banging out a first draft at my desk is the only way to go.

Multi-tasking always makes me feel virtuous, but I must admit, the quality of work isn’t that great. But since I know that the bus ride will be distracting, I plan my writing accordingly. I don’t try to write the big fight scene while bouncing down the road, but notes about what I want to accomplish are easy to do.

In the end, it’s all about finding that inspiration and drive to do the work, be it editing, writing, or simply daydreaming. I find there’s something soul-filling about watching the flickering flames in my fireplace, while the view of the mountains from my dining room inspires me to attempt great things.

Where do you like to write?

Taking Time Off

Sometimes you just have to step away from the Project. The project that’s getting your ego thrashed by your critique group. The project that, rather than edifying and entertaining, seems to be sucking all the fun and interest out of a certain era in history. The project that you’ve been working on for way too long. Yes, that project.

And so I’ve been taking a break from writing. Sort of a summer vacation. But don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the pictures.

I’ve tried to blame my lack of enthusiasm on a winter scene that I was finding hard to write in the heat of summer. I blame the Regional Transportation Commission for traffic jams that keep me from my critique group.

But the truth of the matter is, I just don’t wanna. I don’t wanna work on this project right now, I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, I don’t WANNA!

And you know, that’s okay. I kind of wish I’d embraced the okay earlier in the process, or the lack thereof. I wish that over the last few weeks I had taken scheduled writing time off my calendar and put something else in there. Instead, I’ve felt guilt. Guilt for sitting down at the computer and rather than writing or editing, I went on Facebook. I created a Twitter account. I aimlessly cruised the internet, searching for something, I know not what. Fulfillment? Knowledge? The floor plan for Anmer Hall or Apartment 1A of Kensington Palace?

And what did I find? Glazed eyes, hunched shoulders, and a bigger butt. I’m not happy with the way I spent my summer.

But Fall is upon us and the creative juices are starting to move again. I finished (and submitted!) a short short story. I’ve researched a new project. And I’m starting to dip my toes back into the Project.

Ah, the process…

A Clean House is Not Conducive to Creativity

On the front of the binder that contains our banking records, it says “Dull Women Have Clean Houses.”

As a motto to live by, it kind of rocks my world. If the house isn’t clean, it must mean something more interesting is happening, be it writing or floating on a lake.

Currently though, my house is pretty darn clean, and it’s pretty darn annoying.

We are under quarantine for 30 days or so because of the ringworm, a fungal skin condition that’s crawling around on our new kittens. We humans are itch-free, but the beasties are afflicted with bumps and lesions.

To combat spores, I’ve been madly cleaning. The house was vacuumed to within an inch of its life. Floors were mopped, bedding washed, and oh my yes there was dusting. And three days later I did it again. And in another three days, I’ll do it again. And so on and so forth.

This in addition to dropping pills down kitten gullets.

Yeah, living the dream over here.

In the meantime, I’m way behind in my editing. I’m way behind in my blog posts, too.

My house is clean, but this dull I could live without.